Wrapped Up In You
by SophisticatedNonsense
Summary: Unfortunate circumstances morph into the safe return of a native Quileute teen. She will learn much about life, love, and family from the pack, who she quickly learns to trust. Paul/OC I swear it is better than it sounds. R
1. Prolouge

Prologue

The rain pounded against the roof as a petite, russet-skinned woman tip-toed slowly through the house. A lightening strike lit the hallway as she softly turned a small brass door knob and entered into the pink painted room it was connected to. Directly to the left of the door was a small crib. The woman pulled a bag, which she had packed earlier that day, from under a child's bed and slung it over her shoulder. In the bed, in a mass of pink blankets, was a young girl, around the age of two, who bore a striking resemblance to the woman. Without hesitation, the woman took the child in her arms and back-tracked out of the room, moving as quickly and quietly as she could through the house and out the front door. Outside, the rain fell in sheets and the wind howled, whipping the trees in a frenzy. The woman ran to her old Ford that was parked on the dirt driveway. After buckling the toddler in the back seat, she hurried to the driver's side and closed the door. Closing herself off from the cold, wet surroundings. She gripped the wheel, resting her head against it with her keys clutched so tightly in her fists that they were leaving indentations. The two sides of herself fought, each screaming, ringing in her mind. Tears streamed down her face and she looked back at the child in the back seat. She studied her features; small hands, thin body, thick, dark hair, deep russet skin. The dark side of the woman won the battle. She faced forward, shoving the key into the ignition and starting the car. She backed out slowly, with the lights off, until she reached the street. Then she kicked them on and peeled out down the street, leaving La Push as fast as her Ford would carry.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: 14 Years Later

Mikayla POV

When I got home from work, I heard clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen.

"Mom," I called out. The noise stopped a moment but resumed just as quickly. I walked through the dining room, depositing my back pack on the table as I passed it, and round the corner into the kitchen. My mother had all of the cupboards open, throwing all of our dishes, which were plastic for this exact reason, onto the tile floor. This wasn't the first time I'd entered to find this scene, so her mumblings of 'where is it' and 'gotta find it' were not alarming. My mother stopped her actions when she saw me watching her. In a flash, she was across the room and nose to nose with me, a hand clenching the front of my shirt. There was a fire, one I was all too familiar with, blazing in her eyes.

"Where. Is. It?" she hissed. I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.

"Where is what mom?" I responded smoothly, keeping my voice as level as I could.

"Don't call me that, you thieving bitch! I know you took it!"

"Took wha-" Her fist connected with my jaw and she threw me back into the wall before retuned to her search. Tears pricked my eyes but I blinked them back and ran upstairs, following the too familiar path that I could run with my eyes shut. With my messenger bag, which I'd retrieved from the table, smacking against my leg, I stopped in the upstairs hallway, just under the pull down stairs to the attic. I pulled the red chord in the ceiling and the stairs dropped down. I climbed them carefully, making sure to pull the stairs back up behind me, and sat on my knees in front of a small stack of four boxes, set apart from a larger stack which I had already sifted through in the past few weeks. I opened the first box in the small stack and found it to be filled with pictures, as were to of the remaining three. The last box sat in front of me, staring at me. It was unnerving but I could not give up with my search of the attic until I was sure the item I was looking for was not in the room. I held my breath as I pealed back the tape that was sealing the final brown box and flipped it open. On top was a soft, pink blanket and a green bag with yellow, smiling ducks on the side. I pulled them out and laid them to the side and continued to peek through the shallow box. I found maps from every state between Georgia and Washington, receipts, and pictures. I almost gave up on my search, but, at the very bottom of the box, was the object of my searching. A dusty birth certificate lay there. I pulled it out hurriedly, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement. I blew away the dust and read closely. On the name line, Mikayla Katalina Black was scrawled neatly in what appeared to be my mother's handwriting. My heart sped up. For as long as I could remember, I had gone by Mikayla Holguin. The only inconsistency on the birth certificate was the last name. The first and middle were correct, as well as the birthday. My mother's name was even written on the "mother's name" line. My eyes jumped to the 'father's name' line. It read Michael A. Black. The piece of paper was exactly what I'd been looking for. It said I was born in a hospital in a place called Forks, Washington. I folded the paper and put in in my pocket and quickly returned everything else to its proper place. I left the attic the same way I had entered and continued down the hall to my bedroom. After shutting the door behind me, I sat at my desk and booted up my laptop, opening internet explorer as soon as it was ready. When my search engine loaded, I typed the name on the birth certificate, slowly so I was sure to spell it right and after the name, I typed 'Forks, Washington.' I hit enter and hundreds of news videos and articles sat before me, possibly holding the key to my salvation. I clicked on a link titled 'La Push father pleads for safe return of abducted daughter' and a video of a man speaking into a microphone opened on my computer screen. The man, who I shared quite a startling resemblance with, had tears flowing down his face as he spoke.

"It's been years since my baby was taken from me," he choked out, "I will never stop searching for you. Please call if you have any information that could be of importance. Mikayla, if you are watching this, I love you and I want you home. Please call me." A phone number flashed across the bottom of the screen and I paused the video to write down the number. Could this man be my father? The name next to the phone number said 'Michael Black,' the same as my birth certificate. Mom had always told my dad was no longer living, but always got defensive if I ever asked any more questions on the topic. Is it possible my own mother kidnap me? The intensity of her schizophrenia erased any doubt I would have usually held. I shut down my computer and plopped onto my bed. If he was my dad, I should call him right? Would he save me? Will I get out of this house? This is the answer I had been looking for. Would I be able to live with myself if I just let the opportunity slip away? Mom burst through the door, seething and I sat up quickly.

"Where's my dinner?" she bellowed. I looked towards my alarm clock and realized I had been fighting with my emotions long enough to make myself late in preparing dinner. I began to apologize when her fist, again, connected with my face.

"You heathen bitch," she screamed, continuing to punch my already bruised body. "you are trying to kill me! After all I've done for you, you are going to let me starve!" She pulled me off the bed by my hair and threw me on the floor.

"Mom," I began.

"You are evil," she hissed and spit on me before leaving my room and slamming the door. I lay crumbled on the floor, sobbing quietly. Will dad still want to hear from me? Will he want me and love me when he realizes how broken I am? Most importantly, did I really want to keep living like this? The answers seemed simple as a sharp pain in my rib cage reminded me of the severity of mom's mental disturbance. The clock on my bedside table read 8:36. That meant in Washington it was 5:36. I got up slowly and walked softly to my bed, where my phone still lay. Michael Black's phone number was on a small, folded piece of paper underneath the device. I dialed the number and leaned against my headboard. The ringing seemed so loud, then it stopped.

"Hello?" a deep voice answered on the other end. My heart lurched. Something clickedd inside me and all doubt I had escaped me.

"Hello?" the man asked again.

"Dad?"


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to those of you that reviewed and a special thank you to those that favorited and alerted this story. I didn't really have much faith in this story when I first started posting it but you guys have really made me want to keep it up. I put Mik's info in my bio so please go check it out. Enjoy **

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, except for Mikayla, and any characters or plot details that you do not recognize. The rest belongs to SM.**

Chapter 2: Changes

"Who's this?" the man asked.

"Dad it's me. It's Mikayla," I explained breathlessly. I heard sobbing on the other end.

"Is this real?" my father asked. "Is it really you, my angel?" I nodded but remembered he couldn't actually see me.

"Yes, it's me."

"Where are you?" he sounded frantic, "I will have you brought home." I smiled at his concern.

"I'm in Atlanta, Georgia. I have been ever since I can remember," I answered. "Please get me out of here."

"Is everything alright?" He seemed very worried. The fear was laced in his voice and words.

"I'll explain everything soon, just please come and get me." He agreed without hesitation. I gave him the police department's number and the address I could be found at. He told me to wait by the phone. When we disconnected, I curled into a tight ball under my blankets. I was sure I was doing the right thing, but I was afraid of such a large step. I jumped when my cell started vibrating and I answered quickly. My father wasted no time sharing details.

"The police are on their way. I got you a ticket for a flight leaving tomorrow morning at eight. I'm assuming an officer will wait with you until then." There was a loud knock on the door downstairs and I hears a faint, "Atlanta P.D." being called through it.

"The cops are here dad. I'm gonna go talk to them." He sighed in relief.

"Alright sweetheart. Call me when you get to the airport. I love you my darling." I smiled at this.

"I will, I promise. Love you too." I hung up and tucked my phone into my pocket, just in case he called back. With that, I sprinted downstairs. Three police officers, one woman and two men, were standing in my dining room. They had their eyes on my mother, who was sitting in a chair with her face on the wooden table and was sobbing uncontrollably. I cleared my throat and all four adults stared up at me.

"Mikey," my mother cried, "my baby, what is going on?" I stood firm, assuming she wouldn't do anything stupid with three cops standing around her.

"I found my birth certificate," I hissed with venom dripping from my voice. The female police officer nodded at me and offered me a comforting smile.

"May we see the birth certificate, honey?" she asked, her southern accent putting me at ease. I nodded and sprinted upstairs to retrieve the paper that had been requested. My room seemed like less of a prison when I stepped into it. I had a sense that this would not be a place I would have to hide any longer. I crossed to my desk, where the birth certificate still lay, with just the corner peeking out from under my laptop. I held it close to my chest as I made my way back down to the dining room. I gave the requested paper to the female officer, who's badge said 'Johnson,' and waited as she read over it slowly. She nodded at her partners.

"She's the one," she smiled at me. I smiled softly back. But my smile faded quickly as I felt my hair being pulled from my scalp and I leaned back, towards the pull. My mother had jumped from her chair and she got in a good punch to my ribs and my cheek before the two male officers, Blanco and Penney according to their badges, pulled her away from me.

"You stupid cunt!" she screamed, "you planned this from the beginning!" Officer Blanco and Officer Penney managed to slam my mother's writhing body onto the table, face down, and held her shoulders as Officer Johnson inspected my injuries.

"I hate you," mom continued shouting, "you are the most ungrateful, useless thing on this entire planet!" I couldn't help the few tears that escaped my eyes as she was handcuffed.

"You have the right to remain silent," Officer Blanco began as he grasped my mother's arm and drug her out the front door to the squad car. "Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law." I continued to cry as Officer Penney gave Officer Johnson directions to 'document my injuries.' It wasn't that I didn't want her to go, believe me, I did. The tears were of both relief and the pent up pain I had. Also, there was a nagging fear of the change that would be taking place the following morning. After cleaning my cuts with a first aid kit Officer Penney had given her, Officer Johnson, who asked me to call her Cheryl, sat me down at the kitchen table.

"Honey," she began, "I need to ask you a few questions, and then I have to photo document your injuries." I just nodded and mumbled a soft 'ok.' "What school do you go to?' she asked, "I'll need to pull your records for social services to transfer them for you."

"Jefferson High." Cheryl scribbled the information down on her note pad and continued.

"How long has the abuse been going on?" I had to think about that one for a moment. I had never really classified it as abuse before. I had always attributed her behavior to her crumbling mental state.

"As long as I can remember," I whispered through tears.

"Did she ever tell you about who your father was or where you were born?"

"No," I shook my head. "She always said dad was dead." Cheryl continued to gently question me until about 10:30. She then pulled a camera out of a silver case and gestured for me to stand as she did. She had me stand against the cool blue wall of the dining room. She snapped a picture of my face first, the flash almost blinding me. She took a few more of my face, focusing on the bruises, old and newly forming, before asking me to raise my tank top. I revealed my rib cage to her, it also a canvas of purples, blacks, blues, and greens. She continued to take pictures of my bruised and battered body, front and back, for what seemed like hours. When she finished, she smiled sweetly at me again and put her camera back into it's case, before opening her arms to me. I allowed her to envelope me in a hug as she smoothed my long black hair and tried to hush my cries.

"Alright there sweetie," she said softly, "everything will be alright. We need to pack up some of your things. You will need to stay at the station with some of the social service workers."

"Can't I just stay here?" I begged. She shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry sweetie," she said, "but since you're a minor, we can't just leave you here. I can stay with you at the station, if you'd like." I nodded, felling slightly better that I would have a familiar face. I led Cheryl to my room and we packed my belongings together. We packed what few clothes I owned, my song books, computer, ipod, makeup, and other things I assumed I might need. All in all, I ended up with one suitcase, a backpack, and my guitar case packed and ready to go, and it had left my room empty, save the furniture. Cheryl helped me to take my things to her squad car that still sat out front and she gestured for me to get in. We rode in silence to the police station. For that, I was thankful. I really needed time to sort out the events of the past few hours and to gauge whether or not I could handle the changes that were headed my way.

**AN: Really quickly, I wanted to mention that above, when Mik's mother called her Mikey, it is pronounced mick-y. Just thought I'd point that out cuz one of my friends read this and had no clue how to pronounce it. Hope you liked it. R&R**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm feeling inspired lately, so I'm coming out with another chapter already. I posted the last chapter at like 1:30 in the morning and when I woke up the next day, I was assaulted with email notifications about people favoriting and alerting this story, so I thank you very much for that. Please give me feedback! I know I'm not the greatest writer and I would love some constructive criticism. Im sorry this is taking so long! I have been dealing with a lot lately and haven't picked up ay of my notebooks until this week so I will try to get chapters posted in a more consistent manner. R&R and enjoy**

Chapter 3: Homecoming

I was poked awake by a cold finger on my arm and I pried my eyes open, only to find myself face to face with a short, pale-faced blonde woman in a flight attendants uniform, who was staring at me with a tight-lipped smile.

"Rise and shine," she chirped, "we've made it to Seattle." I rubbed my eyes and began to move slowly. I hadn't slept a wink last night. I had, instead, spent my time talking to Cheryl about whatever topic we could think of. I had been so thankful that she stayed with me and I had actually developed a sort of friendship with the woman, who I learned was only thirty. I rubbed my eyes and pulled myself slowly from my seat, pulling my bag out fro under the seat in front of me and righting myself slowly. I followed the flight attendant down the now empty aisle and exited the plane carefully. I pulled my phone from the front pocket of my backpack and powered it on. As I walked to baggage claim, I texted my dad a quick, _'im here,'_ and tried to calm my nerves. It had been fourteen years since I'd seen my father, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would meet his expectations. My phone vibrated. _'me 2. by carousel 3.' _I glanced around quickly and found the baggage claim carousel in question. Not many people were standing around it and the majority of those that were there were pale as snow. One man, however, was deeply tanned. His face, which I recognized from the news video, was kind looking. It lit up when his gaze landed on me and he smiled wider than I had ever thought possible. He ran toward me, taking me up in his arms and spinning me around. When he set me down, I saw tears streaking his face and he brushed some from my cheeks that I wasn't aware had fallen. I noticed my duffle-bag suitcase and guitar case getting ready to pass me on the baggage carousel and I grabbed at them. Dad took my bag from my hand and held it for me, wrapping his free arm around my shoulder as he led me out into the parking lot. The sky was dark with storm clouds that looked so heavy with rain that they would burst any second. Dad opened the door of a grey truck for me and then ran around to the driver side. After placing my duffle in the back seat, where I also set my guitar, he got in his seat and started the engine. The heater kicked on immediately and it was then I realized how could I really was. When I was leaving Atlanta, it had already been heating up and I had simply dressed in jean shorts and a tank top. Dad laughed deeply as I shivered and glared at the sky out the window.

"You'll get used to it," he said as he pulled onto a highway.

"It's not always like this is it?" I asked. He chuckled again and I groaned. A silence settled in the truck and I grasped for something to say.

"So tell me about yourself," he mercifully broke the silence, "I, unfortunately, don't know anything about you." I pondered his statement and, for a moment, I wondered if calling him was the right decision. I had been getting by ok with my mother, no matter how intense her breakdowns may have been. Now I found myself at the doorstep of a new life – one that I felt like I was jumping into with my eyes closed. I pushed the doubts away quickly, telling myself that this was a good thing. _I deserve to be happy._

"Well," I started, "I'm not sure where to start…" Now that we had found a new topic, I had no idea how to approach it.

"Let's start with the basics. You are going to be seventeen in two weeks, right?" I was shocked that he would remember.

"Yes. July third."

"Do you enjoy school?"

"Very much. I just finished my junior year with lots of AP classes. School was kind of my escape." He glanced at me as he continued down the highway. I saw a slight bit of concern in his eyes and realized I had opened up a topic that I wasn't ready to tackle quite yet.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked quickly, hoping he would abandon the inevitable conversation about my mother, even if it were just for a little while. I think he understood.

"I am a contractor. I own a small company in Forks." I nodded and smiled when he smiled at me.

"That's really cool."

"What about you? Any sort of summer job back in Georgia?" he asked. I nodded again.

"I've been working in a grocery store since I was fourteen." I thought back to the friends had made there and my heart ached at the thought of not saying goodbye.

"Wow. I'm proud of you for holding a job that long. You seem like a responsible kid."

"Thanks," I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. That was the first real compliment I had received from someone that wasn't a teacher. It was nice but, at the same time, it felt so strange.

"Enough of the serious stuff, what's your favorite color?" We laughed together, the sound filing the cab of the truck.

"Purple," I said, still giggling a bit at the randomness of his question.

"Oh, me too," he said grinning. _Well that might explain it, _I mused as I recalled my mothers disgust of everything purple.

"Do you like sports?" Dad's questioning voice broke me from my thoughts.

"Oh hell yeah! Football is my sport."

"That's my girl. Who's your team?"

"Cowboys all the way," I said, trying to hide my smile over the "my girl" comment, "please don't tell me you are a Seahawks fan. I may have to find a new place of residence." He laughed again, that deep, consuming laugh.

"No dear, you are safe. Dallas is my team as well." We spent the next two hours discussing our favorite players and debated the effectiveness of having Romo as quarterback. We eventually passed by a sign that said "Welcome to Forks" and the gravity of the change I was about to encounter hit me full-force and I started to grow excited and impatient. I had done my research and found that La Push was a small Indian reservation just outside of Forks. Dad apparently noticed my fidgeting and patted my arm.

"I'm so happy to finally bring you home," he said, growing a bit misty-eyed. I beamed at him, trying to convey my joy. I think I was just as happy to be coming home. In no time, the truck was being put into park in front of a beautiful house. He got out and grabbed my bags from the backseat as I sat, staring in awe. The house looked a bit like a two story cabin, wooden with stone around the base. It had large windows on the lower level and two smaller ones upstairs. It looked like what I would expect at a ski resort. A tap on the window next to me pulled me out of my trance and I looked through it to see dad smiling widely at me. I opened my door, slid out, and put my backpack on my shoulders, before opening the back door and pulling out my guitar. Dad and I walked up the front porch steps and he unlocked the door.

"Welcome home," dad said softly as he pushed the door open and gestured for me to follow him inside. The house was much bigger than it looked from the outside. I shut the door behind me and dad directed me towards the staircase directly to my left. At the top was a hallway and dad went to the door on the left and opened it, stepping to the side. I walked in to the room and he followed, putting my bag on the black-framed bed. In the room, besides the large bed, were a matching side table, dresser and desk. The hardwood floors looked shiny and new and the white walls seemed to shine in the sunlight that was coming through the glass double-doors in the center of the back wall. I smiled as dad scratched the back of his neck.

"Thank you so much," I said, throwing my arms around him in a hug. He kissed my forehead and his deep laugh echoed in his chest.

"Why don't you unpack," he said, "tomorrow we can look in to new bedding and a little paint for these walls if you'd like." I nodded happily. Dad pointed to a sliding door on the wall on the wall opposite the bed.

"I put some hangers in your closet," he said, and he gestured to the door next to it, "and I put some towels in your bathroom." I smiled again and murmured a small "thank you" as I continued to scan the room. He told me he would be in the living room if I needed anything and he left, shutting the door behind him. I stood and looked around again. I was in awe and I didn't understand why I had been given what seemed to be the largest room in the house but I brushed it off and set about to unpack my things. I hung up the few shirts I had, along with my one sweater, in the closet. My underwear, two pairs of pajamas, and shorts went into the dresser. In the shelves beneath my desk, I stacked my song notebooks. On top, I set my computer, along with all of the plugs that were necessary. Finally, I pulled out my small jewelry box and set it on my dresser. Satisfied I had unpacked everything that belonged in my room, I pulled my suitcase to the bathroom. In the shower, I placed my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and razor. On the sink went my makeup and hair products and hairbrush. With everything in its place, I set my suitcase and backpack on the floor in the closet and let my guitar lay in its case on bed. I looked around, satisfied that it had only taken me about forty-five minutes to unpack. I turned my attention to the double doors. I hesitantly opened one and stepped out, finding myself on a balcony overlooking the backyard and surrounding forest. The sight was enough to leave me breathless. When it began to drizzle, I stepped back inside and went downstairs to find my dad. I quietly crept down the stairs and looked down the hall towards the living room. I could see dad sitting on the couch with the phone pressed to his ear and Sports Center muted on the television. It sounded like his conversation was winding down and as I made my way into the living room, I cleared my throat to alert dad of my presence. He said a quick farewell and hung up as he turned to me, smiling softly.

"That was your uncle," he said, "he'd like to see you. Do you think you'd be up to it today?" I grinned widely and nodded. Dad stood from the couch and clapped his hands together, an excited expression on his face. I followed him out to the truck and got in. After about a minute drive, we pulled up a dirt driveway in front of a small red house. I opened the door and stepped out, just kind of standing there looking at the door. Dad appeared next to me, nudging me gently with his elbow, and offering me a small smile. He linked his arm with mine and I felt slightly better. We climbed a few steps to the door and dad knocked. My heart stopped as the doorknob turned.

**AN: Here you are. I hope those of you that read and favorited this story before will still be interested in reading it. I know my description of the house may have been a little hard to follow so I am planning on sketching up a few drawings of the floor plan and posting them on my profile. They will be posted by the time I post the next chapter. Thank you for being patient with me.**


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: I was going to wait at least a few days to post but I got so many favorite story notifications since I posted chapter 3 that I decided to post again. I am working a long day today so I figure I had plenty of time. This chapter isn't completely finished in my notebook so I apologize if it becomes ramble-y. I will try to avoid that. As always, R&R and enjoy. **

Chapter 4: Family Ties

I hate meeting people and I always feel sick when I do, but when the door opened, revealing a russet-skinned man in a wheelchair, my heart slowed its pounding. The man smiled brightly at me and wheeled back to make a path for me and dad to enter the house. After shaking hands and exchanging smiles with my dad, the man turned to me and held his hand out flat for me to lay mine upon his. I offered him my hand, which he gently grasped in his. He smiled up at me, small tears sparking in the corners of his eyes.

"It's wonderful to see your beautiful face again," he whispered, squeezing my hand. Something was tugging on my heart as I realized dad wasn't the only one who had been missing me all these years. I squeezed the man's hand and smiled brightly. Dad cleared his throat.

"Mikey," he said, "I know it's been quite some time since you've been here, so you probably don't remember, but this is your uncle Billy." I smiled at Billy and he gave me a wide grin in return.

"Is Jacob around?" dad asked. Uncle Billy nodded and wheeled backwards towards the hall, turning around to roll down it. He stopped at a door to his right.

"Jacob," he called, knocking softly, "Uncle Michael is here with someone who I'm sure you'll want to see."

The door opened and Billy turned to roll back down the small hallway. Behind him, a very tall, very tan, very buff boy in jeans, cut off at the knee, followed. I stood staring. _What the fuck is wrong with the water here? _The guy was huge! Like crazy, snap-you-in-half-with-two-fingers, buff. And he was at least a head taller than my dad, who towered over me. Despite the muscle, I noticed a few similarities between us; same dark hair and skin, strong cheekbones, and deep brown eyes. He smiled at me.

"Hey," he said, "dad told me we used to used to play at First Beach all the time when we were younger." I looked to my dad for confirmation and he nodded, a huge smile plastered on his face. He gestured toward the front door with his head.

"Why don't you two go catch up?" he suggested. Jacob walked past me, out the door and I followed. The rain had picked up and we ran to a small wooden garage off to the side of the house. After Jacob slid open the door, I ran in out of the rain. Consequently, I smashed into an old motorcycle. I caught it before it could hit the ground and righted it and, behind me, Jacob was laughing. I turned to him.

"Sorry," he said, still chuckling, "I have a friend that does the same thing almost every time she comes in here. She never catches it though." I smiled and looked around. Next to me, half covered by a tarp, was a red Volkswagen Rabbit. I put my head through the passenger window and checked out the interior.

"Wow," I whispered. Jacob chuckled again.

"I just finished restoring her."

"She's beautiful! You did an amazing job." I looked at him and he nodded his thanks.

"I was actually about to take her out for a spin. Wanna come along? There are some people you should meet." I nodded and hopped in the passenger seat. Jacob started the car and backed carefully out of the shed. He stopped in front of his house and rolled down my window. I turned to see dad and uncle Billy sitting on the porch, beers in their hands. Jacob leaned over to peer out my window.

"Hey," he shouted, "I'm taking Mikayla to meet Sam and Emily." My dad nodded and waved us on. With the confirmation of permission, Jacob rolled my window back up, protecting me from the driving rain that had soaked my bare arm, and drove swiftly out of his dirt driveway and onto the road.

"So how do you like it here so far," he asked.

"It's beautiful. I wasn't expecting so much rain though." I looked down at my jean shorts and tank top. He laughed.

"Yeah you'll get used to it. It's summer so we should have a little less rain."

"I hope you're right. So, you go to college?" He looked at me a moment, then laughed deeply.

"I'm only sixteen. I start my junior year in the fall." I gaped.

"No way!" I said. "There is absolutely no way you are younger than me. You look like you are twenty-something." He laughed again.

"Yeah wait til you see my buddies." _There are more of him? Good Lord. _Before I knew it, we were pulling in to another dirt driveway that was in front of a wooden house with large windows. Nerves overtook me as I exited the car and shut the door behind me, before following Jacob up to the front steps. He didn't bother with knocking, simply opening the front door and walking in. I was more cautious as I entered. I stepped in and shut the front door behind me with a soft click. The little house smelled like fresh baked cookies. At the large wooden table in the dining area, there sat a very plain looking girl, maybe a few years older than me, with pasty white skin. She stood and smiled wordlessly and then looked quickly down at her shoes.

"Mikayla," Jacob said, "this is my friend, Bella. Bells, this is my cousin." I extended my hand to her and she stared at it a moment before taking it.

"It's nice to meet you," I tried. She released my hand quickly and looked at her feet again. _Wow she must enjoy those shoes quite a bit, _I mused. I watched as she sat back down on the chair she had previously been perched upon.

"Jake," a soft, almost musical voice sounded from behind me, "who's this?" I turned and saw a beautiful woman, with tanned skin much like mine, coming from what assumed was a living room. She had long scars stretching down the side of her face, which took nothing from her beauty.

"Hi," I offered my hand, "I'm Mikayla Black, Jacob's cousin." She smiled the sweetest of smiles and shook my hand.

"Ahh," she said, "you're Michael's girl then?" I nodded.

"Yes ma'am." The woman's smile faded only slightly and she chuckled.

"Oh dear, how rude of me. I'm Emily." She stared at me for a long time, tears filling her eyes. "We've been waiting for this day for so long," she whispered. Just then, the front door opened behind us and a group of very large, very tan men walked in. The man at the front of the group, who looked to be in his thirties, looked between me and Emily a few times.

"Is this her?" he asked walking toward me. Emily nodded at him. The man grasped my shoulders lightly and stared at my face before pulling me to him and wrapping his arms firmly around me. Unsure of what to do, I hugged back but glanced at Jacob with a questioning look in my eyes. Catching it, he put his hand on the man's shoulder. Feeling Jacob's touch, the man released me and stepped back a bit, continuing to stare at me, tears streaming down his face.

"Mik," Jacob said, "this Sam." Sam wiped his face.

"It's so good to see you again," he said, "your dad is my best friend, practically my brother."

"So you're like family?" I asked smiling. Sam smiled back.

"Yes I am. Speaking of," he turned to the men behind him, "introduce yourselves." All of the boys Sam had come in with looked the same; all tan with dark hair and very muscular. One of them stepped forward.

"Hi," he said with a smile, "I'm Quil. It's nice to meet you." Another stepped forward.

"And I'm Embry." Both Embry and Quil looked to be about Jakes age, if I had to guess, but both were a bit shorter.

"I'm Jared," the next said. He looked to be a year or two older than me. A very young looking boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen spoke next.

"I'm Seth," he said giving me a huge, goofy grin and pointing behind him, "and that's my sister Leah." Leah grunted at me. I hadn't noticed her hiding at the back of the group. She didn't look too incredibly friendly and I made a mental note not to piss her off.

"It's so nice to meet everyone," I said smiling. Jake looked around.

"Where's Paul?" he asked Sam. Sam looked at me nervously.

"He's still at work…locking up the shop," he said in a way that made me think there was a hidden meaning tucked into that sentence, "He'll be joining us in a little while." Emily set about preparing dinner, alerting me of just how much time had flown by since landing in Washington. The clock said it was just past six and I worried that my dad would begin to wonder where I was. I voiced my concern to Jake.

"Don't worry Mik," he said lightly, "my dad knows that I always overstay my welcome with Em and Sam. My guess is him and uncle Mike are watching sports and probably don't even realize we are gone." After that I grew comfortable with the thought of spending time here. Everyone, save Sam and Emily, who were in the kitchen, sat around the table laughing and poking fun at each other. I was seated between Bella and Seth and found that Seth could talk about a mile a minute. When he jumped into an argument with Leah about whether or not I was growing tired of listening to him, I turned to Bella to find her watching me.

"Sorry about earlier," she said sheepishly, "I'm not really good at meeting people." I nodded to her.

"I understand. I get really nervous." She shook her head at me.

"You could have fooled me. You seem right at home with all of them." She scanned to faces around us.

"I just adapt quickly."

"You are very lucky. People assume I don't like them because I don't talk when I first meet them."

"You're talking now," I pointed out, smiling. Bella laughed.

"I suppose you're – " The door opened and everyone stopped what they were doing to check who the newcomer was. I assumed it was the one they called Paul, because when they saw him, everyone went back to their conversations. The man went straight into the kitchen. After a moment, Sam called my name, saying he had someone he wanted me to meet. I excused myself from the conversation with Bella and made my way through the crowded dining room and into the kitchen. Sam put a hand on my shoulder.

"Paul," he said proudly, "this is Michael's daughter. Mikayla, this is Paul." I looked up at Paul who, like everyone else, towered over me. I was slightly distracted by the fact that he was shirtless and focused on his face. He began to nod his recognition, but when our eyes met, he gave me the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen in my entire life.

**AN: hope it turned out ok. I'll be posting another chapter soon. Thank you so much for favoriting and alerting this story! Be sure to click that beautiful review button and tell me what you think. See you soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I swear, I am cursed. Every single time I update a story consistently, something gets in the way and stops the cycle. I am determined to get my shit together and get this story finished. Again, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and set this story to alert. It really means a lot that you would want to follow my work. I posted drawings of Mikayla's house so you guys could get a better feel of where people are located when I discuss places in the house. If you would like floor plans of any other homes or places, let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and review. I'd love some feedback!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the things you do not recognize! I do not wish to imply that I own anything Twilight related. I am doing this for the love of creativity. Please do not sue me.**

Chapter 5: A Family Affair

**Paul POV**

I had just finished securing the border and started to head back to Sam's when the scent of Emily's grilled chicken hit me. I took off in a run, my paws throwing dirt behind me. When I got to the tree line bordering the Uley house, I phased and slipped on my jean cut-offs. I walked up the steps and through the front door, hearing a large amount of conversation that stopped when I walked in. I ignored everyone sitting around the table and went straight to the kitchen to find Sam. When I saw him, I noticed that he looked much happier than usual. He turned to me when I walked into the kitchen.

"What's the status," he asked.

"All's quiet. Only bloodsuckers I can pick up on are the Cullen's." Sam seemed satisfied with my answer and his joy visibly increased.

"She's back," he said, beaming at me. I had been told that Michael Black's daughter would be returning soon, but I had no idea it would be so soon.

"How is she?" I asked.

"She seems alright," Sam replied. I was glad. I'd been told that Mikayla and I had been friends before her mother had gone psycho and taken her away. Because of this, I was both nervous and excited to see her again. Sam peeked his head around the corner and called into the dining room.

"Mikayla, could you come in here for a sec?" he asked, "There's someone I want you to meet." She entered timidly. I took the time to study her. She had long, dark hair and her skin was deeply tanned, just like everyone else on the Rez. There was something though, that made her utterly beautiful.

"Paul," Sam said, "this is Michael's daughter. Mikayla, this is Paul." I looked at the girl and began to nod. But when she looked into my eyes, I smiled. The world stopped turning. Gravity lost it's pull and the girl in front of me was the only thing holding my feet on the ground. I had imprinted.

**Mikayla POV**

Sam made a really weird noise, kind of like a growl, and turned toward Paul.

"Outside," he said. Paul shrugged and went to follow Sam out the back door, turning and giving me one last sweet smile before he disappeared. I turned to Emily, who had returned to the pots and pans on the stove and was lightly shaking her head and chuckling.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked, stepping closer, intending to help with the dinner preparations. Sensing this, Emily handed me a large wooden spoon to stir the baked beans that were heating in a huge pot.

"Honey," she said, laughing, "you honestly don't want to know." I did, but I refrained from saying so as she continued. "Sam is just jumping back into the uncle role again."

"Were me and him close?" I felt a tinge of quilt as the question left my lips, reminding myself quickly that I was very young when I'd left this place. Emily smiled at me sadly.

"You two were inseparable. It was before Sam and I met, but you should see the pictures." She left the kitchen and I watched to make sure the chicken didn't burn in her absence. When she returned, she had a large, leather-bound book under her arm. She put it on the counter next to me. She went back to her place next to me and turned off the all of the burners that were under the now-cooked food. She poured the corn into a large serving bowl, pointing with her spoon at and identical bowl that I poured the beans in. While she put the last few pieces of chicken on an already filled platter, I scooped the garlic mashed potatoes in the last bowl she'd set out. When we finished, she took my hand.

"They can wait a little longer." Emily pulled me over to the book she'd brought in and opened it, revealing pages upon pages of photographs. She flipped through the book and I assumed she was looking for a specific picture. As she went, I saw glimpses of what my life had been like here. There was me and a young Jacob, sitting by the ocean with a huge sandcastle between us. Then there was me on a tire swing with a huge smile spread across my face and the dense forest behind me. Another showed my dad holding me close in his arms, smiling down on me as I grinned back. Seeing all of the smiles in the book made me ache for what I'd missed. Emily stopped and pointed at a picture in the center of the page. I studied it closely. I was on a younger Sam's back. I had my arms around his neck and he had one of his large hands placed on the point where my arms crossed around him. He had his head turned to me and I was leaned back so that we could look each other in the face, each with the cheesiest of all cheesy smiles on our face. I couldn't help but laugh at the picture. We looked like we were best friends.

"Great shot, huh?" Emily said.

"We both look so happy."

"I know he wants that back," she said as she turned to call that dinner was ready. I considered the possibility of such a close relationship with Sam. He seemed kind – a bit scary maybe, but kind nonetheless. I made a mental note to seriously work on restoring the relationships I'd had. Emily broke me from my thoughts.

"Hop in line with Bella," she said, kindly, "we have to get our food before the others clear it out."

I laughed and followed her to stand behind Bella, who was finishing preparing her plate, stacking my own as we moved down the assembly line that Emily had set out on the counter.

**Paul POV**

Sam had that crazed look in his eye that I knew all too well when he turned to look at me after we had made it a safe distance from the back door of the house.

"What in the hell did you do, Paul?"

I just looked at him and shrugged. He already knew the answer. His hand shot out and grasped my shoulder roughly, with a force that would injure a human.

He growled. "She's been through enough shit, Paul. Probably more than we have been made aware of." He pushed me backward and I stumbled slightly. "The last thing she needs right now is you sticking your nose in and fucking up any hope of progress."

I shook my head, confused. "What are you talking about?" My heart ached at the thought of her feeling pain. I knew that my concern for my imprint was clear on my face. "You act like this is my fault," I growled. "You of all people should know that there is no controlling who you imprint on." I had him there and he knew it."

Sam sighed. "What happened to her… that's for her to tell when she's ready," he said, more calmly. "The point is, she may not be ready for the family secret just yet. If you fuck this up, I swear I'll –"

"Sam!" I cut him off, "do you really think I can't feel how fragile her emotions are? You have an imprint too and you know you feel everything that she feels. I'm not an idiot."

"I know you aren't, Paul," he said, "just see where I'm coming from. She's the closest thing I've had to a daughter. I just got her back and I can't bear the thought of losing her again."

"I swear to you, Sam, I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and happy." I looked him in the eyes, hoping he would see how deadly serious I was. After a few moments, Sam nodded and I let out a shaky breath. He patted my shoulder. Then he did something unexpected. He pulled me into himself and hugged me tightly. It was the kind of hug that I had always wished to get from my father. We stayed that way, until we heard Emily call us for dinner.

Sam pulled away and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, "this has been a really rough day."

"It's cool man, I get it." With that, we slowly turned and walked back to the house.

**Mikayla POV**

The back door opened and Sam and Paul came through it. They disappeared into the kitchen, when the men had lined up for their food. I already had my plate and had seated myself next to Bella at the enormous dining room table. As plates were filled, more bodies came to fill the spaces around the table. Chairs scraped against wood floor and creaked as they were sat in. It seemed that each person was carefully avoiding the unoccupied seat to my left. The volume in the dining room rose with each person that was added to the group. I felt like the new toy at Christmas that everyone wanted to have for themselves. I was bombarded with question after question from the smiling faces around me, in between bites of food. At first, it felt strange to have so many people interested in me, but I relaxed into the crazy atmosphere that had settled around us. After quite some time, Sam sat down in the chair across from me. He smiled a huge smile at me before tearing into his plate. I looked around. The chair next to me was still empty and there was only one person missing from the group. As I realized this, a large, tan hand grasped the top of the chair and pulled it back from the table. I traced my eyes from the hand, up the arm of its owner, until I was looking at Paul. He plopped down next to me and flashed me a smile full of pearly white teeth. I swear, I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.


End file.
